


bird and blossom

by contradieu



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, Mission Fic, idk how to tag stuff, magpieweek2020, making out to distract the guards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contradieu/pseuds/contradieu
Summary: "Motherfucker," Qrow exhales, and tries not to look at Roman's lips. "That wasn't necessary."Roman laughs quietly, and doesn't take his hand away. It burns warm on Qrow's arm. "I think it was," he replies, raising an eyebrow, teasing. "It worked, didn't it? Saved us both.""You can't- you can't just kiss people," Qrow sputters. His face feels hot. Roman's eyes are so fond he has to look away. The real danger is here."Dire circumstances call for improvisation," Roman says, and smiles.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Roman Torchwick
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	bird and blossom

They chase him down hallways and through closed doors, accompanied by the sound of clanking boots and shouts. He's quiet but fast, darting through hidden passages and shadows with adrenaline giving vigor to his aching body. His knee hurts from banging it into the wall earlier, cutting a corner a little too close - but the clamor behind him urges him onwards.

"Fucking Ozpin," Qrow snarls under his breath, sucking in air through his teeth as pain shoots through his leg - a rough landing. The lights above him flicker with the force of the militants - humans, clad in heavy and restrictive armor - thunder after him. In bird form he would be claustrophobically lost in the maze of hallways, so he continues on, the pain in his knee sharp and sobering. Ozpin had sent him here to gather intel, ascertain the workings of a Vale splinter militia faction that was disillusioned with Ironwood's lenience regarding the vigilantes that had taken it upon themselves to safeguard the very edges of the kingdom where the Vale military refused to go. The faction had turned to secure their rule over the border towns, armed guards arresting and terrorizing citizens (peaceworkers, protestors, politicians, and indiscriminate Faunus) - imposing a sick version of law and order over the small, overlooked villages that had no need for their 'help'. And yet.

Something crashes behind him. Qrow curses and vaults over a stack of boxes, breath hitching as a bullet whizzes past his ear. He had turned into a bird to get in here, hiding in a wagon of supplies and then in the vents, the air stifling and freezing cold - and then some _asshole_ decided that they wanted to _clean_ the vents, right where he was huddled, above the deputy commander's office. And then he had no choice but to transform and knock them out, and apparently he hadn't been as quiet as he should have been because the commotion had alerted the entire sector and now he's on the run.

Qrow rounds the corner, eyes narrowed - the lights are dimmer here, less doors and passages and chances to lose his pursuers. More bullets - they _ding_ off of the metal and ricochet, one tearing through his cape. Great. That thing's got more holes in it than cheese now, Summer's going to kill him. … The noises are louder. _Fuck._ Just as he steels himself to turn around and _fight_ his way out-

An arm grabs him.

Before he can react, Qrow is yanked into the darkness of a narrow hallway, cluttered with boxes and broken lightbulbs. "What the f-!" is all he manages before he sees his assailant - green eyes - and stops.

Qrow didn't even recognize him at first, without the classy feathered bowler hat and the worn gray scarf, face free of liner and glitter, instead in a dirtied emerald double-breasted coat with a spunky little badge on his chest - the uniform of the faction whose base he's currently trapped in. But looking a little closer - long lashes, lips quirked up obnoxiously, green eyes half lidded even as gunshots ring down the hallway right next to them. "Hello, little bird." The _thief_ , barely a month in Vale, who has already made a name for himself after making off with thousands of lien worth of Dust from the most heavily guarded Atlesian tech labs and SDC warehouses. Qrow knows him from the news - and from a dingy little bar in southern Vale, red eyes meeting green over whiskey and wine. (Imagine his surprise, seeing Roman's face on television not a day later with a ten thousand lien bounty on his pretty little head.)

"Why are you here?!" Qrow hisses, full of frustration and anger and a little bit of fear, and Roman's smirk slides off of his face.

"I'm a master thief," Roman says, hushed, rolling his eyes, "and this base contains the greatest supply of dust in a hundred li. Did you think I'd pass this opportunity up?"

"No, of _course_ you'd pick _this_ base to steal from, they also have the greatest supply of _weapons_ in a hundred li!" Qrow snaps, now a bit concerned for both of them and angered that he felt concern at all for the other party. The _thief_ . "And _I_ was just about to get away from them and now you've pulled me in here - for what? For a chat?"

"You idiot," Roman snaps. He closes the distance between them - Qrow backs into the wall, having half a mind to close his eyes for whatever godawful reason - and Roman's hands deftly unhitch his cape (in tatters and quite unsalvageable at this point, Summer's going to have a _fit_ ), throwing it far off to the side while he hurriedly drapes a spare emerald uniform over Qrow's shoulders, securing just the first two buttons. A finger reaches up to smudge black around his eyes, making them heavier and brighter, and Roman reaches up to swipe his hair back and down, all in all rendering him fairly unrecognizable. A hand, stained with makeup, finds itself on Qrow's arm. Then, as the guards round the corner, the shouts making Qrow flinch, Roman's hand touches his cheek - and he finds himself being pulled into a kiss.

He doesn't even have time to argue; before he can even take a breath the militants are right next to them, bodies blocking out the light from the hallway as Roman's lips are soft on his own.

"Excuse me," one of them says, and they break apart. Qrow's mouth hangs open and his face flushes, Roman's eyes lighting on his before turning to face the guards. A pair of guards approach them, wary. "Have you seen a man running this way? Red cape, gray shirt?"

It takes all of Qrow's will not to look down at his own shirt (which he knows is hidden under the green uniform, by the _Gods_ Qrow stop being so useless in the face of danger, leaving it all up to Roman who _isn't_ the professional Huntsman here-)-

"No, sir," Roman says, eyes wide and innocent, hand slowly releasing Qrow's cheek. He shivers despite himself at the lingering touch, full of yearning - Roman's a good actor, he has to hand it to him. With the hand around his waist, Qrow might think Roman's doing this for reasons other than hiding the both of them from armed guards. "We haven't seen anyone come this way."

"I doubt you would've seen him anyways," quips the other guard, who quirks an eyebrow at them. "Seems like you've been too busy fooling on the job. Clean yourselves up, and back to your post."

Roman salutes with a grin, and Qrow hurries to follow suit. "Yes, sir, ma'am," they say in unison, and the two guards salute back then clank away, followed by the rest of Qrow's former pursuers.

Qrow sags against the wall behind him, the adrenaline seeping out of him through Roman's hand on his arm. "Motherfucker," he exhales, and tries not to look at Roman's lips. "That wasn't necessary."

Roman laughs quietly, and doesn't take his hand away. It burns warm on Qrow's arm. "I think it was," he replies, raising an eyebrow, teasing. "It worked, didn't it? Saved us both."

"You can't- you can't just _kiss_ people," Qrow sputters. His face feels hot. Roman's eyes are so fond he has to look away. The real danger is here.

"Dire circumstances call for improvisation," Roman says, winking - but falters at Qrow's expression. His eyebrows furrow, and Qrow wants to reach out and smooth it away. "And I _have_ wanted to kiss you, in a non-escaping-from-guards way, if that makes you feel better. Or maybe worse. … Qrow, stop looking like a dead fish and talk to me."

Qrow shuts his jaw from where it had been hanging open at Roman's admission. "You wanted to kiss me?" he says after a beat of silence, because what else can he say? The words hang in the air for a moment before washing away.

"Of course," Roman says, grinning, cocky, and Qrow thinks the moment of vulnerability has passed. But Roman's eyes are still soft and sweet as sugar, and his hand is still warm on Qrow's arm. "How could I not want to?"

Qrow doesn't know how to reply. He feels the eyeshadow Roman had pressed onto him caking around his eyes, applied hastily and thickly to disguise him - his lips are smudged with Roman's lipstick. He doesn't know how to reply, and maybe it's the adrenaline or the sharp sting of temporary sobriety, but he knows he wants those lips back on his. So instead of replying, Qrow closes his eyes and leans forward to bring them together again.

Roman smiles into the kiss - seems to understand what Qrow is saying without saying anything. When they part, they're both flushed, and Qrow is smiling too.

"I-" Qrow starts - 

\- an alarm sounds.

"Shit," Roman curses, breaking away from Qrow and pulling out his scroll, furiously tapping away. "Alright, little bird, follow me out. I've got a transport lined up for us right outside the base."

"For us?" Qrow echoes, tailing Roman as they flee through the hallways, illuminated by red lights.

"For us," Roma replies, turning halfway to shoot him a grin, light and easy. "Didn't think I'd leave you behind, did you?"

Qrow's pulse quickens and his pace slows for just a heartbeat. His face must be red, he thinks, as Roman hesitates, eyes lighting with concern. "Of course not," Qrow says before Roman can stop to check on him. Roman laughs. Qrow rolls his eyes, gives Roman a flustered _tch,_ and vaults over a stack of boxes to avoid maintaining eye contact, keeping pace with him now as the exit comes into view.

They are quick on their feet, swifter than the guards in their uniforms and armor, driven by adrenaline and exhiliration. As they reach the transport, Roman slides a hand into Qrow's to help him up into it, and doesn't let go.

\--

Later, on the way back to Vale city proper, Qrow absentmindedly watches Neopolitan fuss with the transport controls, Roman a comforting weight at his side. He yawns, resolving to write his report to Ozpin later. "Thanks," he says gruffly to the air, a gratitude long overdue.

He feels Roman chuckle tiredly next to him, the adrenaline drop hitting them both hard. "Not a problem, love. It was the least I could do."

"For what?" Qrow turns to look at him, dislodging Roman slightly from where the thief had leaned into his shoulder. "That night at the bar? Do you repay all your conversation partners like this?" Comfortable enough to tease, he jostles Roman with his elbow until the other laughs and straightens up.

"For making me feel something," Roman says, and Qrow doesn't know how he knows but he feels it too. They lean in at the same time, and meet halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> heehee here's my one day late entry for magpieweek 2020 day 4 (prompt heist/mission).........


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